Make Believe
by Eich
Summary: "(…) How can you suffer from the absence of a person who is present? You can suffer nostalgia in the presence of the beloved if you glimpse a future where the beloved is no more (…) " Identity by Milan Kundera.


_A/N: Apparently I'm having a bunch of Cophine feelings that are coming out in the form of rushed, one-shot fics written at the bus on my way to college. This is a bit of an AU in the sense that Cosima is clueless to the fact that Delphine is her monitor, other than that everything is the same._  
_Feedback is awesome. Thank you very much for reading._

**Make Believe**

With your backs pressed against the cold wood of her headboard, you pull your knees up to your chest, balancing the glass of water on top of your kneecap. A small drop makes it's way down the side of your thigh, causing goosebumps to rise from the bottom of your spine spreading over to your chest and belly.

You feel the coldness sinking into your stomach, but as much as you want to believe it is just a simple reaction to the path left behind on your warm skin, you know better.

Over the past few weeks you have became acquainted with this sentiment.

Familiar, yes. Used to it, no.

You can sense it coming now. It hits you every time you allow yourself to think about your current situation. Or even in times like this, when it is far too quiet for you to escape the noise of your mind or the throbbing ache in your chest.

It does not come for you.

It is born within you.

Nurtured by the bright smiles she gives you. Raised by the intricate dance performed by her hands at the sound of her voice. Fueled by every glimpse she risks at your direction when she thinks you can not see her. Encouraged by the way her lips move so carefully over yours. Sheltered by the soft spoken words she whispers against your skin.

It is a paradox, to say the least.

Whenever you are in her presence, there are flames threatening to swallow you whole. Your body is in a constant state of awakeness, waiting for the next subtle touch, longing for the proximity, yearning to feel. But all it takes it is a split of a second, and the fire gives place to the frost that leaves you numb and lethargic.

Cosima's fingertips hold the power to ignite a blaze on your veins, it does not matter if she is making up patters on the freckles at your backs or simply holding your hand, you are always left with the invisible marks of her touches.

The impression lingers on you for hours on end, allowing you to bask into the warmth, waiting until you to become completely wrapped around it before stick it's claws into you. The soft ghost of her fingertips seems to grow heavy, colder, and, before you know it, you are engulfed by the gelid embrace of this familiar feeling you can not name.

Maybe you do not want to name it.

You fear that if you do it, it will materialize right in front of your eyes. A large and powerful monster that will destroy you, shredding you to pieces in the blink of an eye.

It's irrational, you know it.

You're a grown woman, you stopped believing in monsters decades ago.

But then again, that is not quite true.

There is one you still believe in, or used to at least, at this point you are not so sure anymore.

A monster hidden beneath a soft deep voice, elegant clothes, expensive restaurants, high-tec laboratories and ravishing ideas about guided evolution.

About clones.

As a scientist you had been absolutely fascinated by his theories and even more fascinated about the fact that Dr. Aldous Leekie himself had flown across the Atlantic to meet you, a newly graduated doctorate student, to offer you a position at the DYAD institute.

You were not naive, not to the way his eyes had traveled all over you. Still, you had not matter, all you could think about was in the opportunity that was being given to you, and, so, you had said yes without even think about it.

Why would you? It was ground-breaking research, working with the greatest minds of the XXI century and unlimited resources.

It was a dream coming true.

What a selfish, careless fool you had been.

The excitment about everything had been so great you had forgotten about the fact that you would be studying actual human beings with real feeling and lives. For you they were only subjects.

Rationally you knew they weren't only tag numbers scribbled over blood samples on your desk, still, you could not connect the files and the test results with the names.

They had all looked the same to you.

And now they could not be more different.

Or so you assumed, you still hadn't met all of them. The only one you had been in touch with had been Cosima.

But you knew no one could ever be like her.

She was one of the kind, an unique human being unlike any other you had ever come to met in your life or that you ever would. Humanity did not deserved to be presented with another one like her.

It was strange, but getting to know her, being introduced to her every mannerisms – dieu how many did she actually had? –, to her ideas about science, about life, getting to see a glimpse of the world throught her curious eyes, to experience the childlike wonder she had somehow managed to keep throught her adult life, had proven to be more interesting than the possibility to study the artificial aspects of her conception in a closer view.

Who Cosima had become was infinitely more complex and enthralling than the mechanisms by which she had come to be. Who she was far more attractive than what she was.

It did not took much time for you to be completely entangled by her. Completely emersed in her. She almost made you forget the real goal of your presence there.

Almost.

They did not allowed you to forget it, though.

He did not let you.

Always making questions about her. Always requiring reports. Always making invitations you could not decline.

Always asking for samples and medical tests.

Exams you performed on her late at night, when she was lost in a deep slumber induced by the drugs you sliped on her wine glass while she wasn't looking, while she had been too distracted by that indecipherable brain of hers.

From the first time he had asked you -ordered you in fact- you had always made sure to have a great bottle of wine with you, as if the solvent could somehow redeem the solute, and once she started to doze off, not long after taking a few sips, you would always hold her close to you. Hugging her to your chest while whispering apologies to the dreadlocks on her hair, watching as a subtle smile take over her features and she protested against your use of french words she did not understand.

Every night you promissed her you would translate them someday.

Every moment you feared for the day you would have to do just that.

For the day you would break her heart.

For the day she would look in your eyes and you would watch her crumble right in front of you. Because of you.

Cosima was smart. More than that, she was absolutely brilliant. And the fact she still had not made the conection between you and the DYAD institute, the fact that she still had not thought of you as her monitor when you knew she was well aware of your existence, was astonishing to say the least.

It only made things worst.

It only meant that she trusted you so blindly that the idea of you spying on her was inconceivable.

It only made you feel sick to your stomach.

She took you to eat pancakes at three A.M in the morning and bought you Skimo Pies on the way back to her home, with the whispered promisse to help you burn out the extra calories, and in return you stuck needles on her arms after poisoning her system with drugs.

You kept records on her, while she scribbled you silly notes with smiley faces in it.

Small squares of paper that were now stained by your tears.

Tears you cried surronded by the red flasks spread across her carpet, once you had placed her back on her bed.

Tears of regreat and fear. Tears of anger and sorrow. Tears of utter sadness. Tears for the future hole you would carry on your chest on the place that was now reserved for her and her alone.

Tears that came to you when the frigid paws of the monster living inside your guts refused to take hold of your heart.

You do not know which feeling was worst. Which pain is more debilitating.

"I can hear you thinking."

Her voice startles you and you blink a few times, trying to regain control over your thoughts.

"Pardon?" You clear your throat streching one of your legs. You knee snaps and you start to wonder how long you have been lost in this limbo that had become your mind lately.

"Dude is like." Slowly she shifts to her side and you know she is squinting her eyes to look at the alarm clock on the bed table, even if you can not see the adorable frown of her brows. "Five in the morning?!" Cosima falls back to the pillow and you feel her patting your leg. "Shut that beautiful brain of your and go back to sleep."

Her hand remains at your thigh. You can feel the mark starting to gain shape on your bare skin. You shake your head taking a sip of water before focus on her words, chuckling back at her.

"Look who is talking."

The bedroom remain in silence for a bit too long and you start to think she has gone back to sleep, but suddenly she opens one of her eyes.

"Fair enough." She smiles at you before opening the other one. "But at least I can sleep."

"Can you?"

You ask, not able to resist the teasing that has become so usual between you two. Everything seems easy with her.

You see the mischievousness sparkling in her eyes before you hear it in her voice.

"Usually, when there is no pretty french girls half naked in my bed."

As much as you know she is joking with you, there is a part of you that can not help but to feel jealous over the image of other girls sharing her bed. Touching her skin. Being touched by her like you are. Being kissed by her like you are. And all of a sudden you have to supress the urge to make the questions bubbling on your tongue.

"Do you touch them like you touch me? Did you fucked them like you fucked me? Did you lov…"

"Girls? Plural?" Is what comes out of your tongue instead, while you open your mouth in a fake disbelief. Banters are easy. You have been playing make believe for a while now, and you are having the time of your life. You could make this forever…if only it was possible…

She shrugs in response and raises her body match your position, pulling the sheets up to cover her nakedness. You must have slipped back into your gloominess because before you know it she is running her fingers lightly over your inner wrist to capture your attention.

"Seriously, what are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." You shake your head and watch her give you the same look she gave Leekie on the day of his lecture. You know what is to come.

"Bullshit, no one frowns like that over nothing. It seemed as if you." She stops and tilts your chin up, until your eyes are leveled with hers, when she speaks her voice has softened. "As if you were about to cry."

No, you were not. It may have seemed like that but this is not the sentiment that makes you cry. No, this is the anguish that swallows you whole and leaves you breathless, unresponsive. You force a smile, running a finger over her cheek.

"I was just…going over the class a have to TA tomorrow. And my dissertation."

"O..k." Cosma's reply sounds hesitant and you know she is not completely convinced. She waits for you to say something else, and when you do not, she takes the glass of water from your hand moving to stradle your legs. The sheets come down to her waist leaving her torso bare before you and you slide your hands up to her spine, unable to resist the urge to touch her. She's so warm. So smooth. Her scent fill up your nosetrills and the ice starts to melt away, replaced by the heady flames you crave for. "You shouldn't worry too much. I mean, lets face it, you're kinda brilliant and you have magical hair."

She twists a few locks between her fingers inspecting it closely, making you laugh at her words. Cosima can always make you laugh, even when you think the hability has left your body.

"Magical hair?"

"Totally!" She is faking a shocked expression, as if you had just asked her what color is the sky, and you can not help but to grin at her antics. "Even if they are able to resist your brain, a very hard task if you ask me, they are surely going to fall over the package of magical hair and puppy eyes, Mrs. soon-to-be-doctor-Beraud."

The jokes reached your ears but you can not register the meaning behind them, all you can focus on is that last word.

Beraud. That's not who you are, but oh Dieu how you wish you could be.

How you wish you could correct her, tell her that you're not Beraud, that your real name is Cormier. Delphine Cormier, the woman who had thought she knew something but that had been blind all along.

But you can not, and, so, for the time being, you simply pretend.

You have become quite good at it.

And you hate it will all your strenght.

Placing your hands on her hips, you rest your forehead on her sternum.

"Please do not call me that."

Your voice sound so little you are afraid she has not heard you. She caresses the back of your neck, rubbing her thumb over your muscles and pulling you closer.

"Of what?"

"Beraud." Raising your head you place a kiss on her cheek, seeing the confusion lingering there. "It is…it just does not sound good on your lips." You force a smile. You have forced so many already it is almost natural now. "Delphine sounds better."

A grin breaks across her face and your heart swells at the sight of it.

"Yeah?"

She asks, sliding her arms to wrap them around your neck.

You bury your nose on the side of her neck, allowing the scent of her skin to cling to your every fiber. "Oui."

Cosima holds you closer when you drop an open mouth kiss on the hollow of her throat.

"You know what else sounds better?"

You do. You have heard it from her over and over and over and over in the past few hours, in the past few days, in the past few weeks. The best sounds you have ever had the privilege of hearing.

Still, you fake ignorance.

You do what you have become great at.

"Non."

She gives you a innocent smile and traces her fingertips over the skin left uncovered by your oversize shirt.

"Do you want to find out?"

"What about sleep?"

Moving her hands lower she grips the hem of your shirt pulling it over you head before sliding her open palms from your waist up to the valley between your breats. Your heart is beating so fast you are sure she can sense it pounding beneath her hands.

"We can sleep later." She whispers and you feel her breath teasing your lips. "There's lots of time."

You launch yourself forward, capturing her lips in a desperate kiss and feeling her lips curving into a smile against them. She gives you absolutely everything, and you take it.

You take it all because you do not know how long it will last.

You do not know when it's going to be the day that it will all come crashing over your head.

You do not know when it's going to be the day that you will break her heart.

You do not know when it's going to be the day that she will look upon your eyes and you will watch her crumble in front of you. Because of you.

The day when you will have your heart riped out of your chest and will have no one to blame but yourself.

It is only a matter of time for Cosima to find out. You know she will, rater sooner than later with that brain of hers that shots at every direction at once.

Unlike she says, you do not have much time. Your make believe is coming to and end and once it's over you will not be able to get it back.

To get her back.

She has the greatest heart you have ever seen. It will be hard to mend. She will not forgive you.

Why should she forgive you? You are not even sure you can forgive yourself for the things you are keeping from her, for the things you are inflicting upon her.

And so, you pull her closer, you take the sheets away from her body and you push her back to the matress before start to make your way down her body.

The day will come when you will no longer have this. When you will no longer have her.

But for time being, you play pretend.


End file.
